


Renewal

by Alley_Skywalker



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cross-Generation Relationship, Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Canon, Rituals, Snape Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-02-05 03:57:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1804414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alley_Skywalker/pseuds/Alley_Skywalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco wants Severus to participate in his cleansing ritual. Post-war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Renewal

Severus watches from the darkest corner of the room that he could find as Draco sets up the altar, draws the perimeter, checks on the potion that he has been working on. Draco has been anxious to do this for the past few months, but he had wanted to wait until his parents had left once again for the mainland after their short visit to England before performing the ritual. Draco wants this to be his work, his own sign of acceptance and renovation.

 

After the war and the trials, his mother had re-decorated and his father had re-set the wards and all the ancient spells. The Ministry bureaucrats and activists were in a hurry to put stricter limits on blood magic, but there are things that even the Ministry could not take away from the Purebloods. It would be difficult for any politician to try and uphold a platform of banishing spells which are obviously meant for protection. There are plenty of people who know how to manipulate such an incentive to make it look like it is an attempt to get rid of privacy altogether. Ironically, the muggle-borns are of use here as they staunchly uphold what they consider to be the “inherent civil rights of all citizens.” Their liberalism is adorable, and in this case very useful.

 

But despite all the renovations, Draco has never felt comfortable in his own house again. He insisted that Voldemort’s presence haunted him, that he could still close his eyes and imagine the rooms of the Manor as they had been during those long months – dark, completely closed off from the rest of the world. Even though the Dark Lord did not take up permanent residence in the manor, he loved to hold court there at least once a week, if not more often, and the house was involuntarily in constant gloom. There had not been much to be happy about anyway. Everyone, including Severus, had insisted that he was simply suffering from something the muggles called PTSD – although most people in Draco’s life had other words for it – and there was no way Voldemort was present in their home anymore. No more than the dog pack of aurors sent in to search the Manor after the final battle. They did not take much, but Lucius had, apparently, grumbled endlessly about the desecration they brought. Severus had not been conscious yet to witness that.

 

“Draco, I do think you are being very childish about this,” Severus says darkly, watching the boy fidget with the rest of the ritual elements. “Besides, why must I be here?” _Other than for some form of emotional support._

 

“It’s not Blood Magic, I know,” Draco says calmly, “but it is _real_ magic and it is as much for the Manor as it is for us.”

 

“Us?” Severus’ eyebrows knit together. “Would you like to explain further?” It isn’t exactly an invitation, more like a demand.

 

“I’m not the only one who had been harmed by the war, Sev. Not the only one who should start anew.” Draco tips his head to the side and gives Severus a long, questioning look.

 

The Malfoy Ceremonial Chamber is mostly dark, lit by a flock of candles, which Draco lit one by one. The candles throw soft orange light onto the engravings on the walls which depict the Malfoy family tree. Most of the Malfoy ceremonial artifacts are kept here, blood wards for the Manor are cast here. This room, in the bowls and at the center of the Manor, pulsates with magic. Draco had initially wanted to do the ritual in a brighter place, such as the dining room, but finally decided against it. All the Malfoy magic that had to do with the Manor in some way originated here, he had not wanted to break that tradition or the power that the chamber’s concentrated sorcery afforded him. In the gloom, Draco looks especially serious to Severus and especially determined. This is a bad sign. “Draco, I dislike participating in flights of fancy. I did what I did for a reason.”

 

“I know, or I would never have forgiven you,” the boy snaps. Severus expects a Lucius-esque toss of the head, but it never comes. Draco merely looks at him, meets his eyes. It would be so easy to slip into the boy’s mind, plunder his thoughts and feelings, try to feel what he is feeling in a quest for understanding. Severus knows he is strong enough to do it, but something inside him gives. Draco is right – he had betrayed him and his family. Severus is not unused to the feelings. The number of his treacheries is far larger than Draco imagines. If he wants to even marginally live up to the second chance that he has been given, he could start by breaking the trend of destroying all and any trust that anyone bothers to put in him.

 

“It’s not a farce, Severus. You know this can work – why won’t you trust in it?”

 

“Because I never trusted in magic which was supposed to deal with the soul or with ‘cleansing.’ Magic, the results of which you could not see or feel or distinguish in any particular way.”

 

“You trust _me_ , though, don’t you?”

 

Severus gives a look at the rows of candles, the vessels of angelica-based potion, the burning vanilla and lilac incense, the mirrors and Draco’s brand-new Hawthorn wand. His eyes finally land on the ancient-looking spellbook and nearly smiles. Draco had never been good at memorizing long strings of Latin, never cared for it much. But he could read the language well – a product of having a dedicated Latin tutor in one’s childhood – so the spellbook would do just as well. “Yes, I trust you,” he admits finally, almost regretfully. Severus has little choice but _to_ trust Draco. After all, the young Malfoy is the reason why he is still here, why he has a reason to carry on now that his mission to atone for Lily’s death is complete and her bratty son rules the wizarding political hierarchy without even trying or really wanting to. It was Draco’s loyalty and stubbornness that had saved Severus life. It is his love that makes life even marginally worth living.

 

“Then come do this with me.” Draco reaches for him and a note of tenderness slips into his tone. Severus tries to make an irritated face, maybe he even succeeds but, nonetheless, he steps forward, over the perimeter that Draco has drawn, and takes the boy’s hand. He closes his eyes and breathes in the incense.

 

The smell brings back memories from his childhood and youth. The earliest one of a May Day celebration his mother had taken him to when he was still a small child. Severus had then been fascinated by the large fires and the colorful maypole. The most recent memory is from the end of the First War – the Rosier Beltane ball, bright and colorful. The Rosier estate had been one of Severus’ favorite places in the world during his teenage years. Evan Rosier had been his best friend. But that was years ago, before countless crimes and heartbreaks had befallen him and everyone around him. Now, when Severus opens his eyes again, he instantly finds Draco’s grey ones.

 

 

“Will doing this make you feel better, Draco?”

 

“Yes.” The boy nods, his expression absolutely serious but somehow childish and naïve at the same time. “Now that all the political hogwash is out of the way, I just want to move on. With you.” He reaches over and takes the flutes with the Angelica-based potion. He hands one to Severus who takes it gingerly. “I’ve always trusted you, Sev, but if we are really going to do this, to…be together…” Draco laces the fingers of their free hands and Severus lets him, unable to form a coherent protest. “I need you to trust me too, to allow me to be your equal, at least a little, at least sometimes.”

 

It is ironic, really, Severus reflects, that Draco would be asking him for respect. They are both a little low on confidence and pride these days, it would seem. Draco has been his only real hope since the war. The old Order and everyone on that side is still suspicious of him or cannot forgive him whatever wrongs he had done, despite anything Potter says, which is an incredible feat for such sheep, actually. On the other side, the Purebloods have heard of and understood his betrayal – for them it _is_ a betrayal – so it is useless to search for acceptance or trust among them. Not that Severus had expected anything else.

 

Why Draco has chosen to forgive him is honestly beyond Severus’ rather comprehensive understanding of the word.

 

“Well, as long as I am participating in this, we just as might cast the spells together.” Severus takes out his wand and extends it forward at a forty-five degree angle to his body. Draco does the same. When the tips of their wands touch, they emit small, bright yellow sparks.

 

They drink the potion in unison and Draco murmurs, very quietly, “ _inchoare_.”

 

The perimeter that Draco had drawn ignites and the flames on the candles over the altar burn a deep green and an unnaturally bright golden-yellow. The fire that encircles them is hot against Severus’ face. He can just barely see himself and Draco reflected in the mirrors along with the long tongues of fire. There is something dark about all Old Magic, Severus reflects briefly. Even the lightest and most pure of rituals holds an undertone of danger and hunger. Draco meets his eyes and does not allow Severus to look away until he nods and they both turn to the spellbook. The Latin is sing-songy, the ups and downs of the melody indicated by the slight rise and fall of the text on the page. Severus thinks, even as they begin the spell, that perhaps one of the reasons why these rituals never work anymore is that the melody of the initial enchantment has been lost. No one knows exactly the intonation in which these words were meant to be uttered. Theoretically, that should not make too much of a difference if the caster is powerful enough – otherwise silent spellcasting would be impossible – but there must have been reason that so many old spells and charms came with a specific melodic signature, a reason why they were always cast verbally. After all, mangling the pronunciation of a charm when cast verbally would render it ineffective. First years at Hogwarts learn this quickly.

 

But Severus has already agreed to do this for Draco and they had already begun. Nothing less destructive and dangerous than breaking the sacred perimeter of a ritual, Igor Karkaroff used to say.

 

The magic crackles and sparks around them. The mirrors mist and begin to glow softly, absorbing the magic and reflecting it outward. They have begun to live a life of their own. The fire around them grows hotter and then abates momentarily before flaring up again as the melody of the enchantment rises and falls, pauses and starts up again. At some point, they have both memorized the repetitive provisions of the ritual spell and can recite is without looking at the spellbook. Draco’s eyes meet Severus’ once again and they continue, the words of union and cleansing, freeing and light, renovation and rebirth all merging together.

 

Severus feels as though he can see deep into Draco’s mind without using Legilimency. In the connectedness of the ritual circle, they are slowly becoming one mind and one soul. It is now that Severus realizes why Draco had wanted to do this together. This is not simply a cleansing ritual for the Manor, it is one that is meant to unite them under this symbolic, magical rebirth. Severus also realizes, somewhere in the back of his mind, that Draco has linked them magically in such a way that they will have residual feeling of each other anywhere they go. Severus will, also, implicitly be allowed through by the Manor’s wards because his magical signature is now substantially intertwined with Draco’s, in a way similar that a wife’s is twined with her husband’s at a Pureblood marriage ceremony.

 

The last words come out in a rushed exhale and the fire around them dies; the candles flicker out and then rekindle themselves. The mirrors shimmer for another minute or so before fading. Severus can practically feel the magic draining slowly from the air around them, dispersing. “It’s done,” Draco says, pressing his forehead against Severus’.

 

“You’ve bound us,” Severus replies, a little awestruck.

 

“Nothing you couldn’t undo if you wanted to,” the young Malfoy heir smirks, knowing full well that this is one spell foisted onto him that Severus will not undo.

 

“So does this mean we can go up for dinner now?” Severus asks.

 

Draco laughs, his smile brighter now than before they began and Severus feels a lightness in his chest that wasn’t there earlier either. “If you wish.”

They make their way out of the Ceremonial Chamber and up into spacious, bright dining room. Draco claps for a house-elf and Severus wonders if, perhaps, Draco had had the right idea all along.


End file.
